These Whispering Sounds
by agentjedi
Summary: ObiWan begins a new life on Tatooine. He reflects on the past and the path the Force has lead him. WIP
1. Fate of Luck

**TITLE:** These Whispering Sounds  
**AUTHOR:** agentj  
**STATUS:** incomplete  
**CATEGORY:** Drama: Angst, POV (Obi-Wan Kenobi)  
**CHARACTERS:** Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, Yoda (minor), Bail Organa (minor)  
**TIMELINE:** Saga: Inter-trilogy  
**CONTENT WARNING:** none  
**SUMMARY:** Obi-Wan begins a new life on Tatooine. He reflects on the past and the path the Force has lead him.  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** For this story, the only "canon" is from the movies, so leave your copies of _Jedi Apprentice_ and _Jedi Quest_ behind!  
**DISCLAIMER:** I willingly and willfully use characters and situations copyrighted by Twentieth Century Fox and Lucasfilm Ltd. without permission, and without monetary gain. Additional characters and situations are copyright 2005 Lisa D. Jenkins.

* * *

_Watch our history unravel thread by thread  
Watch us all go down in the end  
What will become of what never was  
It's the story of us_  
—Sarah Fimm

* * *

**PART 1 - Fate of Luck**

The stars streaked by silently in the front viewport as I stood on the command deck and stoically watched the skeleton crew of _Tantive IV_ as they went about their business as if nothing had changed, as if their universe hadn't suddenly tilted and spun out of control, torn apart at the seams. Perhaps in a way, it hadn't. Certainly not like mine had. Outwardly, I remained the centre of calm, a proper Jedi Master. Inwardly, however...I was a tumultuous storm, a raging sea of doubt, a blistering sandstorm of confusion. Only one other could have known the truth of my mental state, and presently he was distracted by other obligations. 

Behind me, Master Yoda cooed and spoke soothingly in his native tongue to the boy-child, barely a few hours old. The babe had woken fussy and in terrible distress upon our departure from Polis Massa. Through the Force, the boy had felt the pain of death—the loss of his mother. 

I looked back, seeing Yoda at total ease with the newborn boy as he tried to gently rock him back to sleep. Yoda sang a lullaby in his own dialect, one I had heard him sing many times to the children in the nursery. For some unfathomable reason, Master Yoda always spoke his own language to the little ones. As soon as they were capable of speech, however, he would switch back to his stilted Basic. Equally as strange, none of the younglings—including myself—had ever learned his language. Come to think of it, I never even learned Yoda's origins nor his species. _Some things best kept in mystery, are they,_ Yoda would say. 

The boy settled back into slumber, and Yoda turned to me. Quietly, he whispered, "Take him now, you should," and lifted Luke's tiny frame up to me. 

I reached down and ever so gently lifted the babe from Yoda's arms. Thankfully, Luke didn't re-awaken. Although I had spent many obligatory hours in the crèche as a padawan, I had never felt comfortable as a sole caretaker of younglings. 

Yoda had felt my unease—in more than just my child-rearing abilities. "Release him, you must," Yoda spoke in that double-edged meaning of his. "Release your doubts, Obi-Wan." 

I almost opened my mouth to say, _I'll try,_ but instantly realised how foolish it would be to tell my nearly nine-hundred-year-old master the half-hearted attempts of trial. _Do or do not,_ his lessons of childhood rang in my ears, _There is no try._

Instead, I looked down into the restful face of the new life carefully tucked into my arms. How many things rested on the survival of this tiny being! Words of prophecy, destiny and fate swirled through my head. What path would the Force lead this boy? 

My eyes wandered to the bassinet where the boy's sister lay. Unlike her brother, Leia slept soundly. Born in a moment of her mother's clarity, perhaps the girl made a connection with her mother that would last her a lifetime of comfort. 

I looked again upon the slumbering form of my newest charge. 

Soft whispers of light clung to the baby like morning dew on the blades of Praesitlyn grass. Already his Force signature was strong—as strong as his father's once been. 

I clamped down on my thoughts, not allowing my mind to wander into the corridors of the past. _Keep your concentration here and now,_ Qui-Gon had spoken to me on our last mission together. _Be mindful of the Living Force._

Bail Organa moved beside me to look at the boy in my arms. "It is sad—they will never know the brave and noble woman their mother was," he spoke in reverent tones. 

I nodded in silent agreement. 

Looking to Master Yoda, Bail announced, "We're entering orbit around Naboo. I've already contacted Senator Amidala's family. They will be waiting." 

"Reason, gave you, the senator's death?" asked Yoda. 

Bail nodded. "Complications in childbirth. They...they were surprised." 

"Did they ask who the father was?" I questioned, looking directly at Bail. 

He shook his head this time. His dark features were pierced with a pensive frown. "No. I think—I think they knew..." 

I diverted my eyes, casting my gaze again on the babe in my arms to hide the flash of anguish that surely must have escaped me. I—this boy's father's best friend and mentor, who had fought and laboured shoulder-to-shoulder with the man who gave him life, who had been a good and dear friend of Padmé Naberrie Amidala since the death of my own mentor Qui-Gon Jinn—I had remained ignorant of my padawan's desires. Yet the senator's parents, who had spent only one day with my wayward padawan, had seen the truth that lay in his heart. And I had known nothing. 

No, that was not true. 

I knew. I had always known. 

Like my grief at Qui-Gon's passing, like my seething anguish at the betrayal of my now-lost padawan, I simply did not face it. Hiding it away from myself, I let it pass between us like all those moments in time when I could have reached out my hand, told him how I felt about our bond, our friendship, the brotherhood that we had always shared. Now those moments had forever evaporated, caught in the whirlwind of the past that would never be. 

I felt the reassuring touch of Bail's hand upon my shoulder which brought me back to the here and now and the duties yet remaining. Yoda retrieved Leia, and I followed my master down the corridor into a small crew's quarters. Here we would remain sequestered while the senator's body would be taken to her family and a public funerary procession would allow Naboo's grieving peoples to pay their last respects to their beloved public figure. 

I laid Luke beside his sister Leia in the bassinet and turned back to Bail. "Wait. I have something for Padmé..." 

Master Yoda looked curiously up at me, but said nothing as I retrieved a wooden pendant tied to a long silver chain from my tunics. Handing it to Bail, I said, "She gave this to me when..." My voice caught in my throat. 

"Important to her, it must have been," Yoda spoke the words I could not. 

Bail held out his hand. The chain pooled in his palm as I placed the wooden pendant there. "I...will be sure she is buried with it," Bail responded. He clasped the pendant and departed. 

Numbly, I watched Master Yoda tuck the slumbering children in to their blankets. I yearned to sneak out of the ship and trace my way along the rooftops to the cavalcade to whisper my final good-byes to the woman who had brought a glimmer of happiness to the sad life of Anakin Skywalker. 

At the thought of his name, I shuddered. 

With crystalline realisation, I knew the risk would be too great. I would remain aboard with Master Yoda. 

"Come," my master instructed. "Sit and meditate with me, you should." 

I gathered my cloak about me, the edges singed and still smelling of sulfur. I sat on the floor across from Yoda, placing my palms outward from my knees. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push aside the anxiety welling inside of me, threatening to overcome my stoic veneer. As soon as I closed my eyes, however, visions of scalding red and flashes of iridescent blue against the blackest night replayed before me. 

Sensing my difficulty in finding focus, Master Yoda laid his taloned hands on my knees. Through the Force, I felt calming waves caressing over me, easing my pain until I was able to find the thread that flowed through me to centre my thoughts. 

"Clear your mind," Yoda counseled. "Remove all thoughts. Singular the Moment of Now is." 

I breathed deeply, bringing myself to a meditative state with practiced ease. 

"In time, clarity you will attain. Feel the presence of one once thought long gone..."

* * *

Obi-Wan paced the short length of his assigned cabin. His reckless decision to join Qui-Gon on the mission despite his master's instructions to stay at the Temple with Yoda and the younglings had been rash and for naught. Now his master was sending Obi-Wan back to the Temple empty-handed and alone. Obi-Wan knew he would be severely reprimanded; perhaps Qui-Gon would even go so far as to drag him before the Council and demand a new padawan because of his careless disobedience. _Kenobi, how could you have been so foolish!_ he chided himself. 

Feeling the burning need for a release, Obi-Wan left his cabin for the spaciousness of the hold. Obi-Wan activated his sabre and went through several basic katas, losing himself in the dance. His young body twisted and twirled, the sabre's blade sizzling and humming as it spun and wove patterns of light in the air. 

With a crackle of energy, Obi-Wan felt his arm jar with the blow of another blade against his. His head jerked up in surprise at the green blade hissing across his. Qui-Gon's piercing blue gaze looked down upon him stoically, waiting for Obi-Wan's shock and surprise to pass. 

Obi-Wan recovered quickly and took a step back from the imposing figure. Placing himself in Position I, Obi-Wan waited for the master's next move. 

It came swiftly, but not so powerfully as he initially expected. Qui-Gon's strength as a sabre master was knowing his opponent. Obi-Wan was a forceful fighter, and frequently put all his strength behind every blow. This was tiring, exhausting sabre play. With very little effort of his own, Qui-Gon quickly demonstrated Obi-Wan's weakness, and soon the young Jedi was panting, spent from the effort. 

"Remember," Qui-Gon deactivated his blade and hooked it back to his belt, "there is a time to put your strength behind the effort, and a time to hold back." 

Obi-Wan's head bent in supplication. He knew the master was chastising him on more than his sabre technique. "Yes, Master," he acquiesced as he, too, returned his sabre to his belt. 

The older man regarded the younger silently. Qui-Gon noted the boy's eagerness and curiosity being kept in check by his humility and embarrassment. Yoda had been right—Obi-Wan needed a mentor who would curb his tendency for reckless things. And he was a master who needed a padawan to teach him humility. 

"Come," Qui-Gon moved past Obi-Wan toward the sleeping quarters. "Meditate with me." 

Questions rippled on the edge of Obi-Wan's thoughts. What had prompted Qui-Gon's return? Would he defend Obi-Wan's actions before the Council, or condemn him? Did Qui-Gon think Obi-Wan incapable of following his direction, unable to trust him to return to the Temple on his own and face the consequences? 

Obi-Wan spoke none of these things seething beneath the surface. Instead, he quietly followed the Jedi Master back to his cabin and proceeded to kneel beside the towering man in meditation. 

"No." Qui-Gon's powerful voice commanded, stopping Obi-Wan. "Across from me." 

Half-bent with one knee to the floor, Obi-Wan looked up with surprise, but moved to position himself across from Qui-Gon as instructed. In the small space barely meant for one, the knees of the two men touched. Qui-Gon's eyes were already closed. Obi-Wan focused his mind and did the same. 

Feeling the energy of Obi-Wan's mind quiet, Qui-Gon reopened his eyes. After reprimanding the boy and sending him away, Qui-Gon realised his own stubborn nature was blinding him to the truth. Despite the young man's impetuousness, he had been a great asset to Qui-Gon on the mission. 

Qui-Gon regarded his wayward padawan silently. He came to a decision. 

Reaching out his hand, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan's padawan braid from behind his right ear. At his master's touch, Obi-Wan's eyes flew open. The master's eyes were focused on his task of unplaiting Obi-Wan's braid. Tears welled in the boy's eyes, but he did not allow them to fall. Obi-Wan decided even if he would not be Qui-Gon's padawan, he would still be a Jedi. 

"Do you remember the significance of the padawan braid?" Qui-Gon asked. 

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan's voice sputtered as he answered automatically. "It signifies the entertwining of all life with the Force. The symbiotic relationship we share with it." 

"And with each other," the master reminded his padawan as his deep blue eyes flickered up to meet those of the boy's. The older man's mouth remained firmly set in a straight line. 

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, unable to continue to meet his master's. 

Qui-Gon retrieved a knife from his boot and reached back into his flowing chestnut hair. With a swift swipe of the knife's blade, a small pinch of his tresses came away into his hand. 

Replacing his knife, he spun the strands between his fingers, twisting it into a small rope. Taking his padawan's long unbraided strands, Qui-Gon placed his cut hair next to the others and interwove them. 

Obi-Wan swallowed to hold back the fluttering in his belly. He stared at Qui-Gon disbelievingly as the master replaited the braid and tied off the ends. 

Without a word spoken between them, Obi-Wan understood Qui-Gon accepted him unconditionally as his padawan. Mistakes may be made by both parties, but no amount of reckless disobedience on Obi-Wan's part would make Qui-Gon shirk his responsibility in teaching him the ways of the Force. 

Qui-Gon looked into the boy's eyes, a slight grin tugging at his lips as his eyes twinkled in amusement. Obi-Wan gasped, unaware he had been holding his breath, when Qui-Gon's palm touched the boy's cheek to stop a tear that had escaped his eye. 

"It was not happenstance," he spoke quietly with great gentleness, "when we met that fateful day in the Temple's Great Hall, and I took you as my padawan. I certainly can't say I was ignorant of your obstinate nature!" 

With that, they both smiled and shared a light-hearted chuckle. Qui-Gon reached out his capacious hands and placed them on Obi-Wan's slim shoulders.

* * *

I gasped and shuddered. For a passing moment, I had felt the gentle pressure of my former master's hands upon my shoulders. The lingering brush of his presence through the Force remained with me like a trickle of water from a cool stream. 

Looking down upon Yoda's countenance, I saw a peaceful smile upon his lips. Without opening his eyes, he informed me, "In time, your master's voice you will hear once again. Guide you, Qui-Gon will, in the ways of the Living Force, to complete your training." 

I nodded absently, still carried in the buoyancy of a comforting crest of fleeting contentedness. 


	2. A Twisted Fate

_Never saw a tear in those golden eyes_  
—Beth Quist

* * *

**PART 2 - A Twisted Fate**

Obi-Wan watched helplessly through the red haze of the energy barrier as the black-clad Zabrak fought against Qui-Gon Jinn. The creature before him was very well-trained in the Jedi arts, and his obvious youth gave him energy and power. The master, by no means unskilled in sophisticated sabre play, was finding the Zabrak's blunt attacks and thrusts to be hard to parry. The master was no longer the youth he once was, and he was tiring. 

_Come on, come on, come on,_ Obi-Wan impatiently urged the barrier to re-open. He gasped as Qui-Gon barely blocked the Zabrak's blade. 

This battle had continued far too long, Qui-Gon mused. The creature before him deliberately attacked Obi-Wan at the beginning of the confrontation, separating the padawan from his master. Now, without Obi-Wan's assistance, Qui-Gon realised he wasn't going to make it. 

Coming to a decision, Qui-Gon brought his sabre forward—an aggressive move his adversary was not expecting. He pushed back the Zabrak's blade, causing the creature to take an unbalanced step back. Qui-Gon saw his opening. He swung his blade back— 

The step back was a ruse. The beast thrust the dual hilt forward, hitting Qui-Gon squarely on his forehead, causing him to stumble back, dazed. In the moment of this precarious position, the Zabrak swung his sword, bringing the blade up from below, and thrust it viciously into Qui-Gon's belly. 

"_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**_" Obi-Wan's lungs exploded with his howl. Venomous anger welled in him as his crystalline eyes locked on to the dark-clad monstrosity that turned to gloat upon him. 

Instead of the Zabrak he expected to see, Obi-Wan was greeted by the vision of his own face, tattooed in blood red and the black of empty space.

* * *

Gasping for air as I awoken, the cry I had first thought as my own was, in fact, the piercing cries of the squalling children. My body flushed with a relief I couldn't quite fathom as images from my sleep drained away from my memory. Swinging my legs off the cot, I found the nanny droid carrying Luke and attempting to feed him. Silver-grey metallic eyes focused on me. 

"This one will not take his sustenance," the nanny droid spoke with its strange soothing lilt, incongruent to the boy's wails that pierced the hull of the cabin. 

Sola, Padmé's sister, had helped to smuggle the droid on board before our departure from Naboo. _Padmé gave it to us when Ryoo was born. It helped raise both my daughters,_ she explained her parting gift. _She always wanted her own family..._ The grieving woman had rushed away in tears before either Yoda or myself could offer our condolences. 

"Here," I offered as I stood, desperate to chase away the pounding in my head. Of the children, Luke had, by far, the stronger pair of lungs, and the newborn certainly wasn't afraid to use them. "I'll take him." 

Placing the babe in my arms, the droid handed me the milking bottle, then turned its attention to baby Leia. 

I rocked the boy gently to counter the ship's sway and cooed, "There, there, young Luke." Immediately, the boy's cries diminished and a far more peaceful look overcame his face. 

"A natural, you are," Yoda silently chuckled at me as he sat the edge of his cot, apparently still trying to convince me I would have made a promising crèche maid. 

I shot him a look of exasperation. "Perhaps he does not like flying." 

"Perhaps." Yoda's ears twitched as he traced scratches on the durasteel floor with his gimmer stick. "Or perhaps, like someone else, a more personal touch, he needs." 

Embarrassed by my master's acknowledgement of the way I trained Anakin, I looked away, finding solace in Luke's visage. Luke's sister had also quieted by the nanny droid's ministrations, and Luke finally accepted the bottle I offered him. Impassibly, I watched Luke as he drank greedily. 

I had pledged myself to watching over this boy, and yet I felt as if the Force were already showing me the warning signs. Perhaps what we were doing was all wrong; we had been wrong for so long—for centuries, according to a repentant Master Yoda. Were we going down the wrong path yet again? 

Yoda felt my inner struggle and poked my leg gently with the gimmer stick. "Tell me, young one. Hold in your heart, love for this boy?" 

Luke was done with his bottle, his eyelids drowsily falling closed. I raised the boy over my shoulder and patted his back until a satisfying burp emitted. Resting him in the crook of my arm again, I traced a finger along Luke's chubby face. He coughed slightly and waved a fist in the air, but remained asleep. 

I felt as if my whole being were weighted with the sins of his father, the sins of my mistakes. Yet in the darkest recesses of my heart, I knew it was more than duty that moved me to commit myself to the future of this boy. It was more than hope to put things aright. 

It was the love I still held for Anakin. 

"Yes," I whispered, silently vowing the steps of my path to walk along side his, wherever they may go. 

"Then right your decision is," Yoda assured me. "In time, learn to trust your feelings again, you will." 

The ship shuddered as it dropped out of hyperspace. Dread dropped in the pit of my belly like hardened durasteel as I realised our destination. 

The cabin door chimed, then opened, revealing Bail on the other side. With a pinched expression, he announced, "We're approaching Dagobah." 

Master Yoda grunted his acknowledgement and nodded, accepting his fate willfully as he stood from the cot. His wizened face thoughtful, he turned to me. 

"Train him, you will not," Master Yoda reminded me. "When the time is right, the Living Force will guide them to us." 

"Yes, Master," I acquiesced to my master's wishes. 

As Yoda began to hobble his way out into the corridor, Bail dropped to one knee before him and made a pledge. "I assure you, Master Yoda, we will do everything we can to restore the Republic. On that day, I promise to return and release you from exile." 

Master Yoda regarded Bail thoughtfully before responding. "Restoring the Republic, perhaps you should not. Learn, I have, from my own mistakes. Time, it is, to create something new from the ashes. But first, undo the web which Palpatine has woven. Dangerous, he is. Time it will take. Patience we must have." Yoda patted Bail's shoulder reassuringly. "The Force will be with you, Senator Organa." 

Bail stood, and Yoda ambled past him. "May the Force be with us all," Bail murmured with sad hope. 

Still carrying young Luke, I followed Yoda down the corridor to the lifepods. As he eased into the opening that seemed just the right size for him, Yoda turned and looked up at me with his golden-green eyes. Such depths of compassion and love as I had never seen him look upon me before, I was dumbstruck by the wave of comfort he offered to me through the Force. 

"The Force _will_ be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he spoke tenderly, as if singing a lullaby to a youngling. 

With deep reverence, I bowed and replied, "Thank you, Master. And with you." 

Yoda grunted and groaned as he positioned himself before the pod's controls. In that moment, I felt as if I should fling myself to him, make an impassioned plea, beg him to stay with me. 

The pod's airlock hissed shut. 

I heard the moorings release, and with a blast that shook the plating beneath my feet, the pod shot off into Dagobah's orbit. With great remorse, I watched it spin into the murky atmosphere where it was engulfed in the heavy cloud cover that blanketed the planet. The _Tantive_ changed course almost immediately, and soon we were back in hyperspace, speeding toward our next destination—Tatooine. 

Making my way back to the cabin, I found Bail standing beside Leia's bassinet, gazing down tenderly at his newly-adopted daughter, already the deepest of love burning in his dark eyes. I knew then that whatever fate held in store for her, Leia would know the unconditional love that only a parent could give her—a kind of love I feared I was unable to give to her true father, the man I had raised as a son. The man who was a man no more. 

Suddenly a wailing cry pierced my ears. Looking down at Luke, he had awoken at feeling my personal distress within the Force. I chided myself for being so reckless and lifted him against my chest, gently patting his back as I tried to soothe him with platitudes, "Shhh, shhh, there, little one. You don't want to wake your little sister, now, do you?" 

I moved away, back down the corridor, hoping that the boy's troubled cries would not awaken little Leia, but she, too, had felt her brother's distress and began to cry. 

I turned to see Bail lifting the girl up in his arms. He looked at me with a pained expression, and we exchanged a knowingness that young fathers all had to face—the sleepless nights of parenthood. 

It was going to be a very long night, indeed.

* * *

In the pseudo-darkness of Coruscant's night, newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi slumped exhaustedly in a chair across from his sleep couch where the nine-year-old boy Anakin Skywalker slept. 

Obi-Wan brushed a hand through the short tuft of his hair. The pads of his fingers stopped momentarily behind his right ear. The comfortable weight of his padawan braid was gone. Only singed edges welcomed his touch now where he severed the braid with his lightsabre, a privilege that should have been reserved for his former master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Instead, Qui-Gon was dead, impaled at the end of a Sith Lord's double-bladed sabre, leaving the charge of Anakin Skywalker to him. 

So much for happy endings. 

Qui-Gon's death left Obi-Wan with unsettled feelings about the future. He shortly discovered he hadn't been the only one. As the last remaining visitor in silent meditation at Qui-Gon's funeral pyre, Obi-Wan had not noticed the others fall away, nor the approach of Qui-Gon's own former master. Feeling the dark presence of the Force wrapped in upon itself, Obi-Wan turned to see Master Dooku standing in the pavilion's entryway, his eyes intensely focused on the dying embers. Countless hours had passed since the ceremony took place; only charred bones remained. Obi-Wan noted the haunted look of regret in the man's dark eyes which stood out against his ghostly white face. 

Without acknowledging his fellow Jedi, Dooku turned on his heel and departed as silently as he came. Apparently, Dooku had interrupted an important mission of his own to attend the funeral, too late. Obi-Wan knew the feeling well. Too well. 

The next day, the Jedi took part of the Nubian celebrations. Despite the festive mood of the occasion, Anakin had been quiet and reserved, mimicking the sombre comportment of his new master. In truth, Obi-Wan realised that the boy was masking his own sorrow over Qui-Gon's death. Certainly, the boy's act didn't fool any of the rest of the Master Jedi in attendance. Penetrating eyes raked over Obi-Wan as Council members silently warned him of the tribulations ahead. 

The day was long with many dignitaries from the Senate paying tribute to Naboo's Queen and the newly-appointed Supreme Chancellor. Various conversations wafted in and out of Obi-Wan's hearing. More than once, he had heard the phrase "Sith killer" whispered as eyes drifted in his direction. He would simply pretend he hadn't heard and avert his gaze, discomfit in his new role. He was glad when the Council announced their return to Coruscant. 

By the time the new Supreme Chancellor's starcruiser returned the Jedi, it was the middle of Temple's night. Anakin thankfully had not asked to see the cockpit and politely stayed at his master's side. Although the boy fought back sleep, eventually even his endless curiosity could not stay the needs of his body. Upon landing, Obi-Wan found himself carrying the boy in his arms, Anakin's head nestled against the man's now-bare neck. There was no time to make arrangements for new quarters, so Obi-Wan placed Anakin in his own sleep couch, and the Padawan-turned-Knight kept vigil in the chair across, watching the boy speak in a mixture of Huttish, Basic and gibberish as dreams plagued him throughout the night. 

Obi-Wan himself slept intermittently, unable to lift himself from the chair. The only other available sleep couch was on the other side of the apartment which he had shared with Qui-Gon. In that private space was Qui-Gon's things, his master's scent, the lingering presence of the man. No, Obi-Wan realised, he could not encroach on Qui-Gon's memory. In the morning, he would apply for new apartments, one suitable for a first-year padawan and...his master. 

Sleepily, Obi-Wan's eyes traced the finally-still form of his young apprentice. /The boy is dangerous/ Obi-Wan had warned Qui-Gon. In regards to this issue, Qui-Gon treated Obi-Wan like a pesky gnat who had gotten too close to his vision. But Obi-Wan could not hold on to the indignation. His master had been right. Only this boy and his uncanny natural connection to the Force could have inadvertently started up the engines of the Nubian starfighter. Only he could have miraculously dived into the heart of the space battle and escaped unscathed. Only he could serendipitously deliver the blow that destroyed the droid command carrier and return victorious. Only Anakin. 

Dawn broke over the surface of the Temple in purplish golden hues. Obi-Wan's gaze drifted to the vista, his exhausted mind connecting past and present, memories and imagined things. Many was the dawn he sleepily dragged himself out of bed to find his master already in morning meditation. Obi-Wan had been certain that the man never slept, simply meditating through the night, awaiting for his padawan's waking. 

Once, he had been the learner. Today he was the master.

* * *

I was listless, unable to quiet my mind after quieting the children. I returned Luke to his bassinet where the nanny droid stood guard over them and headed down the ship's corridors in the small hours of the night, ship's time. 

Finding myself in the ship's hold, I pulled out my sabre and began to drill. Once, I could find comfort in the routine, but not tonight. Instead, flashes of blue against the ominous red of spewing lava wavered before my eyes. 

_I failed you, Anakin. I have failed you._

I stopped, staring off into the dark corners of the hold while my mind replayed the scene like an endless loop. The jump to the ashen shore. The attempt to dissuade him. The vicious taunt from a creature I no longer recognised. My defense against the attack. 

The creature's eyes. 

I closed my eyes against the memory, but still the pervasive image remained, burned into my soul. The creature kept its eyes on me as if pleading for me to save him, but when I attempted to touch it with my mind— 

The thing that responded was not my friend. It was a hollow shell, a thing to be despised. It answered to my call in the Force with hatred and loathing. This thing before me was Anakin Skywalker no longer. 

My hand unconsciously reached inside my tunic where I fished out the long silver rod that had once been Anakin's lightsabre. 

My fingers caressed its surface, admiring Anakin's technical skills. The shaft was seamless, its plastirubber grip at the far end as if meant for a much larger hand than my own. A few nicks and cuts marred its casing. With my fingertip, I traced a rectangular one that had held my attention earlier. 

_Padmé's lips trembled, her last breath escaping from her lips, her lips still trying to speak of him, the man who was her lover, the man who was once my friend._

_I felt the senator slip away, the hope and love she held evaporating like the mists of early morning in the presence of the mid-day sun. The sound of a heart being torn asunder wailed through the tiny operating theatre as the boy in my arms felt the passing of his mother into the oneness of the Force._

_Numbly, I looked down into the palm of my outstretched hand. A piece of Japor—no more than a snippet, really—rested there, slipped from hers into mine as I held her hand to support her final journey into the Force. A long silver chain slipped through my fingers, gravity threatening to take the snippet from me. Scooping up the chain single-handedly, I brought the Japor pendant up to peer closer at it._

_A strange inscription was carved into one side of the sun-bleached wood. It appeared like a little sun, its rays flaring out in four directions._

_I realised that I had seen it before._

_Handing over the squalling Luke to the birthing medic, I slipped Anakin's lightsabre out from inside my tunic. Turning it round in my hands, I put the Japor snippet against the etching on the back side of the sabre._

_There—the same rectangular sun symbol my padawan carved into the sabre's hilt during the quiet moments on the battlefield._

_I gasped at the realisation._

I held the sabre in my hands, wondering why I had bothered to retrieve it. I remembered turning away from him as if casually returning to a previous task at hand. The glint of silver along the dark surface caught my eye, and without a thought, I stopped to pick it up. Now it seemed so frivolous. 

Frowning, I thought of Yoda's last directive. "Train him, you will not." I was to pass young Luke to his uncle and aunt—Anakin's step-brother and wife. This was the last of his family. This was his only legacy. 

Yet it pained me that the boy would grow up never knowing the man I knew—the man who gave his fierce loyalty to those he loved; the man who laughed freely at all my dry, humourless jokes; the man who found strength in his broken past, who rose above life's torturous paths and excelled at every task laid before him. 

No, when the time was right, I would give Luke his father's lightsabre. If the man who was once Anakin Skywalker could speak to my heart, he would tell me how much he wanted his son to know his heritage. 

With a soft sigh, I replaced the sabre within my tunics and returned to the cabin where the children slept. I lay on my cot and crossed my arms across my chest. Try as I might, however, sleep remained elusive. 


	3. Shadows and Dust

_What can we do?  
History has taken over  
The same mistake a million times  
We're buried in the dark forever_  
—Sarah Fimm

* * *

**PART 3 - Shadows and Dust**

I was jolted awake by a loud bang and a shudder that ran throughout the ship. "Ion canon," I identified immediately as I rolled out of my bunk. 

The cabin door flew open as a disheveled Bail Organa entered. "It's the _Intrepid_. Apparently, she was still patrolling the Outer Rim, looking for Jedi deserters." 

My mind flashed an image of Aayla Secura. A pain pierced my heart as I thought of her, remembering when she stood in the centre of the Council chambers. I had recently been appointed Master and Council Member. Giving Aayla her assignment aboard the _Intrepid_ was one of my first assignments in my new role. 

I pushed the memory aside and went to pick up a squalling Luke. "Are we in orbit around Tatooine yet?" 

"We are 200 klicks away. I'm not sure if we'll make it," Bail answered, looking worriedly at the children as I gathered things I would need for Luke planetside. 

"It will have to do," I replied as I somehow managed to throw the survival sack around my shoulders while holding Luke. I paused and put a hand on Bail's shoulder. "Be careful, Bail. If Palpatine ever found out Leia is Anakin's child—" 

"Don't worry," he attempted to reassure me. "I've already sent a coded message to my wife, Breha. Only she knows how to translate it. She will have the proper paperwork to back up the story that Leia is our adoptive daughter." 

I nodded, hoping it would be enough. I glanced down at the little girl thrashing about in the bassinet, as if she knew her life was going to irrevocably change, never to know her true family. Considering in the end the terrible price that was paid, perhaps she wouldn't want to. 

The ship shuddered again, this time it was a navigation correction to prepare for docking procedures. 

"You better hurry," Bail warned. "You haven't got much time." 

I nodded. "May the Force be with you," I spoke the blessing as I gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

Clasping Luke's crying form close, I raced down the corridor to the lifepods. Hunkering down, I squeezed into a pod and took the controls. 

Holding Luke close to my chest, the escape pod jettisoned from the _Tantive IV_ and tumbled through space out towards the planet. It was difficult to say the least to steer one-handed while the boy's cry filled the tiny cabin. The _Intrepid_ cast an ominous shadow over us as gravity drew us closer to the planet. 

"Hold on, little one," I tried in vain to reassure the distressed boy in my arms. "Just a little further." 

I had to time our entry into the atmosphere carefully, hoping that if we were detected, our pod would appear no more than a mere asteroid skimming the surface of the ionosphere. 

When the hull of the pod reached its maximum heat tolerance, I fired reverse thrusters. The burn of the pod's engine would be masked by the fiery trail left behind from reentry. My practiced skill brought us safely down on the sandy surface of Tatooine. 

I took the survival sack and emptied its contents into the folds of my cloak. Using the sack like a papoose, I placed Luke inside and looped the straps of the sack around my back, drawing the boy to my chest. Wrapping my cloak around the two of us, I kicked the pod's door open. 

A rush of heat filled the cabin, some from the super-heated exterior of pod from our reentry, but mostly from the shimmering sands that stretched out endlessly before us. Both suns were high overhead, scorching the barren land. I threw the hood of my cloak over my head for some protection from the twin suns' glare, and checked that the boy was snugly secured round my torso before venturing out. 

Using a pair of macro binoculars, I scanned the surface. Just as I planned, we had landed several kilometres from the outskirts of Mos Eisley, one of the smaller spaceports on Tatooine. It would likely take me a good portion of the day's light to trek across the blazing sands just to find shelter within the sprawling settlement. 

Looking back up into the heavens, I shielded my eyes to catch a glint of light off the two ships now in orbit. I detected no firing between the two, and prayed that none of the clones aboard the _Intrepid_ had detected our escape to the surface. I watched a moment longer to be certain there were no signs of pursuit. 

I blinked away sunspots from my eyes as I returned my attention to Luke and peeked at him under the folds of my cloak. On the descent, he belted a terrifying wail from the top of his lungs, but now the babe was sound asleep. It felt strange to be looking upon the child's dusting of blondish hair and the shape of his pudgy cheeks. Already he was so reminiscent of his father. 

I sighed and centred my focus on the task at hand, setting off for Mos Eisley.

* * *

Obi-Wan pumped his legs as fast as they would carry him. He was undeniably, unbelievably late. And all because he wanted to look at the stars in the observatory before classes began. _Stupid, stupid, Kenobi!_ he chided himself as he rounded a tall column entering the Great Hall— 

And suddenly collided with a very tall man trying to come out the same way Obi-Wan came in. 

Falling backwards to the floor, Obi-Wan looked up...and up...and up, and finally saw the scowling face of what must have been a very perturbed Jedi Master. His chestnut hair cascaded down to his shoulders, framing his leonine face. Piercing blue eyes penetrated the boy's opalescent blue-grey ones as Obi-Wan gaped up in awe and fear. 

"Where are you heading, young man, that you cannot pay heed to where you are going?" the man asked in a deep voice. To Obi-Wan, it might as well have been the growl of a nexu. 

"Uh...ah, t—to class, Master," Obi-Wan whimpered a reply. He explained, "I am late." 

The imposing figure bent down, a shadow casting over his face. "What is your name? Who is your master?" 

"I—I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir. And...I have no master." 

The gentleman looked somewhat surprised at the boy's answer. "How old are you, Obi-Wan Kenobi?" 

"I—I'm eight standard years, sir," Obi-Wan stated. Realising he wasn't exactly telling the truth, he corrected, "Well, in a month." 

The towering man's features softened as he regarded Obi-Wan who still remained on the marble floor, propped up by his elbows. Reaching out a hand, the man introduced himself, "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn." He helped pull Obi-Wan to his feet. 

"Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon spoke, tilting his head slightly, "why you are almost eight standard years and without a master?" 

"Master Yoda says it's because of my obstinate nature," Obi-Wan explained, clasping his sweaty hands before him. "I'm too headstrong, and im—im—impetuant." 

Qui-Gon's lips curled upward. "Impetuous," he corrected. 

"Yes, Master." 

Qui-Gon's midnight eyes pierced Obi-Wan with a grave seriousness as he stated, "The way of a Jedi is very difficult. It sometimes requires you to walk down a path you are not always willing to walk. To become something you are not always willing to become. Do you really want the life of a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi?" 

Nodding eagerly, Obi-Wan responded, "Oh, yes, Master! Very much!" 

Qui-Gon's eyes flickered up and down Obi-Wan as if assessing him, then a look of decision came over him as he straightened up and placed his generous hands on the boy's shoulders. "Well, then...Obi-Wan Kenobi. I take you as my padawan learner." 

Obi-Wan's mouth gaped open in surprise, his eyes wide with excitement and awe. "You—just like that?" he said in a slightly higher octave than he had spoken before. Then with a frown, he wondered, "Shouldn't we be in Council or...something?" 

Qui-Gon's grin quirked to one side as he lightly shook his head. "It's not necessary." Taking a step back, the man's eyes flashed with amusement as the boy continued to gape incredulously up at him. "See? Now you're not late. You were right where you were meant to be—with me." 

"Yes...Master," Obi-Wan replied, his mind unable to take the swift turn of events in all at once. He looked down and stared off into the distance. Should he excuse himself and continue on his way to Master Yoda's class? It seemed very strange to be someone's padawan now. 

"Come, Padawan," Qui-Gon called out to him as he began walking in a completely different direction than Master Yoda's class. 

_Well,_ Obi-Wan pondered, _I guess that answers that._

* * *

Taking a carefully-measured drink from my water skin, I quietly assessed the run-down hostelry that also seemed to be part mechanic's shop as well. The place looked like it was on its last legs, held together by shear fortune and the fact that the building hadn't been accidentally demolished by a passing ronto. Never in my younger days would I have entertained the thought of accepting room and board at such an establishment, although with amusement I realised it was exactly the type of place Qui-Gon would have chosen. 

Opening my cloak, I peered at a squirming Luke who had tossed aside the torn cloth I had used to soak up water and milk to feed him on our journey. In my haste, I had brought enough milk, water and bottles, but not a single nipple. "Some father I would have made, hmm?" Luke gurgled at me and flailed his arms, cooing happily. I suddenly smelled the real reason for his joyful demeanour. I chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing I remembered to bring _those_." 

I crossed the dusty street and entered the establishment. Speeder parts were strewn about, making it look more like a repair shop than a place for room and board. A young lady was sitting behind a counter held up by plastisteel piping, watching a HoloNet broadcast on a very tiny viewer. 

"Hello, there," I greeted. 

My voice must have startled the young lady, for she nearly jumped off of her stool and sent it crashing to the floor. "Oh! Ah...picking up or dropping off?" 

"Um...actually, I was hoping for a room for the night. You...do rent them?" I began to second-guess my choice of accommodations. 

"Uh..." 

"Who is it?" a gruff man's voice called out from another room. 

"It's an old man looking for a room." 

_Old man!_

A portly man who had already passed the prime of his own youth came through a doorway, rubbing his greasy hands with a stained towel. His flat blue eyes assessed me carefully just as I was assessing him. 

Just at that moment, Luke decided it was time to make his presence known. With a squealing cry and coo, Luke kicked and squirmed against me. My cloak opened, revealing his place in the makeshift papoose. 

"Oh! A baby!" the young woman cooed and came round the counter, totally forgetting all else. She stood before me, her soft brown eyes peering up through dark lashes with a reverent plea. "May I?" 

I felt only good intentions as well as her personal desperation for a child of her own. I nodded with a pleasant smile and eased Luke out of the sack. 

"Oh! What an adorable little boy!" the woman cooed affectionately as she took Luke carefully in her arms. Her dry flaxen hair fell over her shoulders down to Luke's waving fists. 

I looked back up at the man who still remained behind the counter. His face had drawn a hard, cold line with his mouth as he watched the young woman fuss over the boy. I realised then that this was the woman's husband. I sensed anger and frustration from the man, with a sad resignation of how things came to be. His eyes shifted as his gaze fell upon me. Suddenly, I felt very out of place and eagerly wanted Luke back so to make haste out of the establishment. 

"You're such a sweet boy! Yes, you are!" the woman cooed at Luke nestled in her arms. 

In the background, the voice from the HoloNet feed drew my attention. "...Despite a failed Jedi attempt to murder the Emperor-appointed Sith commander, Lord Darth Vader is reported to be in stable condition at an undisclosed medcentre. Imperial officials indicate Lord Vader sustained multiple Jedi-induced injuries, including amputation of several limbs and severe burns over 90 percent of his body. Although Lord Vader is expected to recover from these Jedi atrocities, medics indicated he would likely be dependant on life-support for the rest of his life..." 

Everything in the world seemed to stop as I stared at the flickering glow of the HoloNet feed on the tiny receiver behind the front counter. 

Anakin. Alive. 

_Could_ Anakin die? Would the Force allow it? He had been the Chosen One, hadn't he? Wasn't he? The balance between the Light and the Dark, the Jedi and the Sith, the endless struggle of good versus evil—where was its fulcrum now? 

Feeling light-headed, I turned to look back at the young woman who smiled at Luke in her arms. She lifted her head to look at me, her expression changing to concern when she saw my pale face. I reached out for the counter to steady myself, but the world spun, and I knew only darkness as I fell to the floor. 


End file.
